


Clearing Away the Rubble

by driedflowers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I mean it is only like 500 words, It's really only slightly slash, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedflowers/pseuds/driedflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry is sad and alone after the Battle of Hogwarts. (What an enticing description, right?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing Away the Rubble

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [charleybradburies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies) for a speedy and excellent beta.

Kreacher did bring him a sandwich. Many sandwiches—and other meals—were brought to Harry Potter over the next few days. After the battle, no one could bring themselves to ask him to leave, so he stayed. The Gryffindor boys’ dormitory was more of a home to him than any other place had been, and what he needed more than anything was comfort.

The bodies of dead loved ones and death eaters alike had been relocated. Some of them had probably even been buried already, but the castle air still felt heavy with their presence. While it was stifling, Harry couldn’t bear to think of leaving it. He could still cling to a piece of them here. _It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live_...but he was entitled to at least a few days of dreaming. The euphoria of the victory—the realization that never again would death and destruction overtake his life—had yet to sink in.

Ron and Hermione had gone to the Burrow. They’d stayed with him for a day or two, but they had grown up accustomed to warm, loving arms when they were sad, whereas he was used to being alone.

Sometimes, when he could bear the stillness of the dormitory no more, Harry would roam the hallways. His footfalls echoed in the silence. Rubble was gradually being cleared away, but he never knew by whom. Now, though, he knew that someone was coming. His thoughts were slow and muddled, so it did not cross his mind to run or hide, or even to turn around and walk away. His legs carried him forward, towards yet another inevitable outpouring of gratitude from a stranger, which he would be expected to appreciate.

Harry was looking at his shoes as he turned the corner.

“Potter?”

There was no mistaking that voice. He felt the phantomous motion of pulling out his wand, felt his lips forming the words of a curse. The feeling moved faster than anything in him had in days, and yet Harry stood there, numb, wondering if this was some sort of dream.

It certainly _felt_ real.

“What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?” he said, accusatory. They were the first words he had spoken in days.

“I could—” Malfoy bit back a half-hearted sneer and a harsh retort, sighing instead.

“The ministry’s seized the manor. Professor McGonagall let my family stay here.”

Harry nodded slowly. He didn’t exactly have the energy to be angry. No, he had gotten so much of that out of his system on the first day—punching and pummeling pillows and cushions for hours—that now all he had left was emptiness. Lupin and Tonks and Fred and all of the dead had taken up space in his heart, and with them gone it was as if a dam had broken; darkness surged in like roaring water. His life was already brimming with loss, and he was only seventeen.

Draco Malfoy looked as defeated as he was. Gone was the twinkle in his eye that had made him the object of Harry’s fancy for years, replaced now with a deadness he was sure was mirrored in his own gaze. Harry wondered whether he should hate the pitiful boy slouched in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

It was still too early for forgiveness. “I know.”

With that, they went their separate ways.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The part about wondering if Kreacher would bring him a sandwich is one of those random details that really stuck with me when I read Deathly Hallows.
> 
> Also, after I wrote this I realized that the clearing of rubble was sort of symbolic of the clearing of _emotional_ rubble and got very excited. Hence the title.


End file.
